


I'm a healer?

by I_hate_mages_No_you_dont



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Healing, Januanders, circle Anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/pseuds/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont
Summary: One night Anders wakes up from a nightmare. He saw his mother again, and the burning barn. And as he opens his eyes he finds himself crying and alone. Well maybe not entirely alone.(by kittenmage)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Humble contribution to #januanderstakeback and the topic of Anders, the healer. Again this is more personal than it might look. It’s been ghosting around my mind for months so I am glad I finally have the right occasion to write this.

„GET HIM OUT OF THERE!!“

A woman’s panicked cry rung through his dreams and woke him with a start. Sweat and his hair stuck to his forehead. His breath a ragged panting. Tears falling freely from his eyes. He lifted his hands close to his face and searched for the burn marks he knew should be there. But of course they weren’t. Not when he had accidentally set the barn on fire. Not when he had checked again and again as his hands were in shackles and he was dragged along to the circle. Dragged away from his mother.

His mother.

Again the horrified yell echoed through his head. It was his mother’s cry for help.

He had been playing hide and seek with his friends in the village. He always knew the best spots. The best places to stay undetected. This time he had chosen the narrow gap between the hay stack and the wooden wall. There was a tiny slit through which he could see his friend walk past the barn. Again, and again. They couldn’t find him. He would have chuckled if it wouldn’t have given him away. His excitement grew with every minute that passed by. Most of his friends had been recovered from their hiding places. He could see them at the hill top. The one searching was getting a bit frustrated. “Come out! You’ve won! It’s no fun when we can never find you!”

Maybe they were right. He didn’t want to spoil the fun for the others. So, he chose to give up, nevertheless exceedingly gleeful that he had been the last to stay hidden. This was the moment his father appeared next to the other children. “He’s outsmarted you all again?” The proud smile on his father’s face resonated like a warm hug through him. His father was proud of him. “Let me help you find him! I think I know where he’s hiding.” He instantly retreated from the small crack in the wood. His heart beating fast in excitement. His father knew him too well. He would know he was hiding in the barn. He would be there any moment now. Any moment! Anticipation flooded through his body and brain, tinged by a bit of nervousness. It was an overpowering mixture of contrasting emotions. From happiness to anxiety and the mischievous satisfaction to outsmart everyone back to the alertness of knowing that he would be found any second now.

And then it happened. As if his own emotions overpowered him, he felt a wave of something powerful and unknown start in his chest, pressing outwards through his hands.

Fire erupted from his fingertips. 

Real, burning, dangerous.

Fire in his hands. Shooting directly at the hay he sat in, setting it aflame instantly. His eyes went wide in horror as the flames licked at the hay and straw and wood around him. The energy inside his chest pounding heavy alongside his heartbeat. It didn’t even feel foreign. And maybe this was what frightened him more than the actual fire. And caused the yell of pure horror that escaped his lips.

Everything afterwards was a blur of fire. Heat. Screaming children. His mother’s cry.

“GET HIM OUT OF THERE!!”

A hand grabbing through the split in the wooden wall, tearing the plank away with sheer force, his father’s eyes directly in front of him, pulling him through the hole in the wall, away from the flames that claimed the entire building as their own. Eyes wide in shock and fear. Staring at his own hands. Not one burn mark. Not even a scratch. Worry and realization in his father’s face. His mother crying, clinging to him. His father staggering backwards, away from his own son. “No… it can’t… not my own child…” His mother violently sobbing against his shoulder, her embrace far too tight. The barn burning like a bonfire, bright and terrible against the afternoon sun, long into the night. The Templars stomping across the path before the ashes were cool. “We’ll take the mage!” His mother screaming again and again. Mercy! “Don’t take him away!” His father. Silent. Gaze averted. Shackles on his hands. His friends staring in terror. Running from him, the mage. His mother. Calling his name…

“Anders!”

He heard a soft whisper from the bed next to his. Through the darkness of the dormitory he could see big eyes blinking fearfully at him. He was back in the present again. He was “Anders”. To his fellow mages… To the circle he was the Anders kid. No one knew his actual name. And it was all the same to him. Let them use Anders. Let them think I’m a foreigner. I don’t know myself anymore, anyhow…

“Are you alright?”

Bare feet met the cold stone floor and moments later the mattress next to Anders sunk in a little as the small girl climbed onto his bed. It was dangerous to leave the bed before the mornings when the Templars came to wake them. But maybe it was far enough into the night, that no one would check if they were in their own beds. At least Anders hoped so. For the sake of the girl. He didn’t care what happened to him.

A tiny hand hesitantly closed itself around Anders’.

“You’ve been crying. Was it a nightmare?” She whispered again. Her voice barely audible. Just a faint ghosting breeze in the dark room that was filled with the even breathing of many sleeping children.

Anders nodded and dried of the tears that still clung to his cheeks with the sleeve of his night tunic. The girl squeezed his hand a little. 

“That is okay. It happens to all of us.”

A shy smile appeared on her lips. Or maybe that was just Anders’ imagination. No one had smiled at him like that since they brought him to the circle. Not in earnest. The older mages’ smiles always looked forced. And the Templars never smiled. The few who did had a ting of danger and hunger to the grin that Anders didn’t like one bit. It made him feel like prey. A tiny rabbit under the gaze of a wolf. But this little girl risked to be caught out of her own bed at night to come over and comfort him with a smile and holding his hand.

The gravity of this small gesture made Anders almost choke on his own sobs as they suddenly pushed themselves out of his mouth again. “You… you… shouldn’t…” Another violent sob and a hitched breath interrupted Anders’ whispered speech. “…shouldn’t do this. They’ll catch you and you’ll be in trouble…”

“But you shouldn’t be alone now…” She stated and brushed her messy curls behind her ear. “I’m Salina Amell.” Salina gave him a toothy grin. The shyness leaving her a bit as Anders responded with a vague sort of smile himself. “I… I am pleased to meet you…” He gave her hand a light squeeze, that made her smile just a tiny bit wider. “Everyone says you ran away to find your family?” It wasn’t a statement… it was a question. The girl’s voice was tense with curiosity. Yet Anders let out a sigh. If only he had been successful and at least met his mother, before the Templars dragged him back to Kinloch Hold.

His mother.

Unconsciously his free hand closed itself tightly around the edge of the small embroidered pillow. “I didn’t find them.” A short pause, then Salina edged a bit closer. “I think it was brave! To try, I mean.” Her eyes were filled with something like understanding. Anders wondered how old she might be. Six? Maybe 7? Half as old as he was, yet she comforted him through a nightmare. Back in his old life that was what he had done countless times. When the children of the village had spent their nights in a camp, supplied with blankets and food by their parents to watch the raining stars in the summer sky. Whenever someone had had a nightmare or a small injury, they had called for him to help. To comfort them. To hold them. To make them laugh again. But now, none of his old friends would accept his comfort anymore now. Because he was a mage. Not a friend any more. Just a mage. Something terrifying and alien. Not like them. His shoulders sunk down under the weight of his thoughts.

“We should go back to sleep. Before they find you here. Don’t get into trouble because of me!”

For a second he hesitated, then he pulled the young girl into a fleeting hug.

“I’m not worth it!”

Salina would have none of it. “Let them come! I’m not afraid!” Nevertheless, she lightly jumped off his bed and sneaked back under her own blankets.

A few minutes of silence passed in which Anders angrily turned from one side to the other. Why couldn’t he be like anyone else? He wasn’t even good at any kind of magic. A total failure… How did he even manage to set anything on fire, when his fire spells were nothing but mediocre flames, smaller than a simple candle?!

“Anders!”

The soft whisper reached his ear and Anders turned towards Salina again. Her eyes shown in the dim light. 

“Salina?”

“Sleep well! Tell the nightmares to leave you alone! Or… I will come and tell them!”

Being a mage her little promise wasn’t completely hollow, though Anders doubted that the young mage apprentice was capable of something like that yet. Still. Her unexpected care, touched him. More than he would be able to tell her. So, he at least gave her a promise to send every nightmare away. The content sleepy smile as she closed her eyes, made Anders’ lips twitch upwards slightly. If only she wasn’t born a mage. If only people would see what a lovely person she was, even at so young an age.

Sometime past these thoughts, Anders had fallen asleep again. No more nightmares of burning barns and disappointed fathers. Just deep slumber.

He woke with a start, as the door to the dormitory was yanked open and a Templar in full armour strode in. “Wake up! It’s time for breakfast!” The Templar waited by the door as everyone got up, slipped on the robes, and went past him towards the dining hall. Anders was the last. Being the oldest to still share the same dormitory as the youngest apprentices. He wasn’t sure, because the helmet hid the eyes quite well, but Anders could have sworn that they threw a pointedly dark glance towards him.

Breakfast was a silent affair. Everyone shoving as much of the bland porridge into their mouths as they could before they had to leave to fulfil their daily classes and chores.

Today it was a special day. Or so the Templar said. They young mages were led towards a large heavy wooden door. The room behind it was round, like many of the others, it’s walls packed with shelves of vials and herbs and bottles and jars and books. Bandages filled up a whole section close to the huge window that stood slightly ajar. A soft breeze brushing over Anders’ face as they entered and he gaped at the room. He eagerly sucked in the air. Almost swallowed it, as if that would help preserve the smell of trees and… outside. And herbs. Anders took another deep breath and scrunched up his nose in sudden realization. He knew that smell. It was the same as in his mother’s little chamber. Where she kept the plants she used for making tea when he had a cold. Or to turn into a balm when someone has scratched their leg or cut their finger. It smelled almost like home. A warm, green, stinging sensation of the place Anders so longed to see once more. It smelled so much like his mother.

“Welcome children!”

An elderly mage stood at a chunky wooden table, that was covered in different ingredients to make salves and teas. That much Anders knew. He even recognized a few of the plants from his mother’s work place.

The group of young mages shuffled closer to the table and took their seats on the chairs and benches and stools that stood in an orderly pattern in front of it.

“I am happy to welcome you to your first glimpse at healing magic.” With a nod towards the Templar she added, “You might leave us now. They will be finished at noon.”

“The Knight-Commander insists on my presence. Who knows. This might be interesting.” The Templar stressed the last word and Anders gulped. What did that mean? Why would the Templars monitor them on their first try at healing? Was healing magic so dangerous? Wasn’t it supposed to help people? Or did they want to make sure that no one tried to sneak away poisonous plants? Anders had spotted a jar filled with deathroot. His mother had told him that it could be dangerous. If you prepared it the wrong way together with food it could cause hallucinations and fever. Or worse.

The mage raised an eyebrow, yet her mouth remained in the inviting smile. This was one of the reasons Anders didn’t fully trust the older mages. They always tried to smile at the Templars even when they were clearly NOT in the mood to smile. “Hey…” A soft whisper came from Anders’ right and he turned to see Salina Amell sit down next to him.

Nobody ever sat with him. Ever.

“I am so curious. Someone said healing is the rarest magic. And that is looks beautiful. I want to see healing magic sooo badly.” She smiled her shy smile and looked back at the mage in front of their group. Anders was stunned for a second. The soft voice of the elder women brought him back from questioning the younger mage’s sanity for choosing to sit with him.

“Healing magic is a very rare gift. Only few mages possess the talent. To perform a successful healing spell the mage has to have a very close connection to the fade. Because healing relies on the aid of friendly spirits to cast.”

A curious mumbling coursed through the rows of children. The women let them whisper towards each other for a moment then she spoke up again.

“Most of you will know me already. My name is Wynne and I am going to be your teacher. Regardless of you being a spirit healer or not, you will all learn the basics of healing. It is important to know one plant from another. Because choosing the wrong herb for a potion can be a matter of life and death.” She raised a finger in warning, yet a small smile ghosted over her lips. Maybe he was mistaken, but Anders was sure that smile had been genuine. The mage, Wynne, seemed to enjoy the excitement and curiosity of the children.

“I am not here to frighten you. Once we are done, you will hopefully all be able to tell the difference between elfroot and blood lotus.” Another warm smile that Anders couldn’t put off as his imagination. “Come forth now and we’ll begin!”

Despite himself Anders was on his feet as one of the first. The intriguing smell of herbs that reminded him so much of his mother drove him forward.

Wynne spoke in her soft manner, displaying different plants before them, opening bottles of different potions and fluids, explaining their use and dangers. It went on for hours. But for the first-time Anders didn’t mind. More than once he caught himself thinking _‘I knew that!’_ because his mother had told him before. And as Wynne made them try to brew a proper elfroot tea, Anders was the only one who did it right. He let the water cool down a bit before he put in the plants. It earned him a warm look and pleased nod from Wynne. And a long stare from the Templar who had come to stand behind Wynne. They probably wanted to monitor the small mages a bit closer.

Time flew by. Half of their lesson was already over when Wynne finally announced that it was time to try their hands at magic. Anders almost shook with excitement. Maybe he could take more lessons with Wynne. Even when he failed at this magic again, because fail he would, maybe they would let him stay in this room full of familiar scents and objects. As long as it took him to work out another escape plan at least.

“Why do you know so much about this Anders!” The small voice of Salina was close to him again. She stood in front of him as they waited for Wynne to call them towards her to try a simple healing spell. Her eyes fixed on another young boy who currently tried his best to concentrate and follow Wynne’s instructions. His face was tensed up in a grimace, his hands moving in shaking patterns before… nothing happened.

The other boy seemed disappointed. Wynne immediately reconciled him. “Jowan, it’s no shame to not be able to do healing magic. You will find a field that is perfect for you, I am sure!”

In the short interval where Jowan left Wynne and went over to the others who had undergone the test already, Anders turned to Salina. “My mother taught me a bit about healing with herbs and salves. She was a nurse before she married my father…” The whispered confession stung in Anders’ heart. He didn’t even know why he would tell anyone about his family. Why he would tell that small girl of all people? Her eyes went wide at his words and she smiled that small smile again. The sudden urge to take her back to her parents wherever they might be and make them accept her back even though she was a mage flashed through Anders like lightning. She shouldn’t be here! None of them should. They should be with their families…

“Anders?”

Wynne’s voice reached him through his internal ranting.

His feet moved forward without him willing them to. Anders felt as if he was dragged forth without his own doing. Forward towards another failure.

“You’ve payed close attention, didn’t you?” Another genuine smile played across Wynne’s lips as she reached for Anders’ hands and turned them so they faced upwards. “Spirit healing means you have to focus on yourself first before you can focus on others. You are the source of healing. You and your connection to the fade. You have to be calm. Let the magic come to you. Like a soft breeze. It’s not a fireball.” Ander registered the irony in his teacher’s voice as he tried to concentrate and closed his eyes. He thought of things that would calm him. The wind in the trees outside their farm. The purring of the cat when he stroked her. The buzzing of bees in the orchard. His friends’ laughter when they played. His mother softly humming while she carefully stirred a bowl with salves.

A pulling sensation bubbled inside his chest. Much like the first time his magic had manifested. As he set his old life on fire.

Only this time it wasn’t hot and threatening and consuming. It felt… soothing and cool. A soft touch of something gentle.

A sudden yelp behind him, made Anders jerk his eyes open. And he stared.

Soft blue waves of magic were oozing out of his hands, whirling around them in circles, dancing over his fingers and arms before they flew back. It looked like wind playing softly with the still water of a small lake. It was like clouds touching his body. It felt good. And so familiar. And Anders remembered a similar tiny flow of blue in the middle of the burning hay. As he stared at his hands in horror yet found now wound. No burned flesh. Just his hands, trembling and white, but smooth as ever.

**“You’re a healer Anders!”**

Salina squealed behind him and shortly after he felt a tight hug around his waist as the young mage flung herself at him. The blues waves in his hands faded like a distant dream.

 _‘I’m a healer?’_ , Anders thought. His mind whirling as much as his magic had done. _‘I’m a healer!’_ He repeated towards himself. His fingers still tingling slightly with the cool comforting feeling of something purely good. Something that came from him. From Anders’ own magic. He barely registered the smile on Wynne’s face, nor the happy giggles from the girl who still held on to him. Not even the Templar whose glare had gotten darker as any time before.

“I’m a healer”, Anders whispered at last. And for a brief moment, the memory of his mother’s cry was gone and replaced by her smile. Somehow he knew, that she would be proud of him. Even if he was a mage.


End file.
